Catching the Seeker
by SweetlyDesolated
Summary: Oliver Wood always found Harry Potter fascinating, so when Harry signs on as the team's medic, things must change for the best, especially while stealing Harry away from his girlfriend. Written for Kamerreon's and Excentrykemuse's Love a Lion Fest. SLASH.


**Disclaimer:**I do not own the characters from the Harry Potter books written by J. K. Rowling and published by a variety of companies.

**Title: **Catching the Seeker

**Author:** SweetlyDesolated

**Beta:** AirKnitter (fanfiction ID: 2129240)

**Prompt:** #44 - Oliver's been obsessed with Harry Potter since he was thirteen years old, much too young. But now Harry's legal and the war's over. He's going to have to fight a fellow Gryffindor for what he wants. Harry's worth it. - Anonymous

**Pairing:** Harry Potter/Oliver Wood  
**Rating:** NC-17

**Length:** 4,091

**Warnings:** Slash, jealousy, lemons, flirting, character bashing

**Summary:** Oliver Wood always found Harry Potter fascinating, so when Harry signs on as the team's medic, things must change for the best, especially while stealing Harry away from his girlfriend.

.o0o.

Oliver couldn't recall when exactly he started thinking about Harry Potter in ways he shouldn't. He thought the boy had been adorable, cute, and feisty when the child had become the Gryffindor seeker, but Wood couldn't remember much about that time. He was only just fifteen then, and ecstatic about being captain even though there had been older students on his house team.

Maybe it was inevitable that Oliver would finally notice his attraction the year Harry came for his third year. Harry's eyes were haunted as the boy glanced around, almost waiting for the moment Black would jump out and attack him. Oliver sharply recalled his own concern over Harry, especially at the boy's horrid reactions to the dementors; mostly he worried about Quidditch, while dark voices whispered his concern about his Harry – his being the key word.

Oliver sighed as he rolled over in his bed, pulling the sheets tight over his toned shoulders. His memories returned in full force as his eyelids fluttered shut. His subconscious drew up images Oliver couldn't begin to describe, such as the overjoyed expression in a thirteen-year-old Harry's eyes as he caught the snitch, securing Gryffindor's win once again. Wood's eyes had caught the way sun glinted from unruly hair, ruffled in the warm wind.

His attraction to the young boy grew immensely at that point; however, Oliver was grateful he hadn't approached Harry in any way other than as captain. It would have been cruel, as Oliver was graduating, and illegal as Harry was most definitely a minor. The memory-Oliver grinned brightly at the little Potter and congratulated him on the win. That had been the last time Oliver had seen Harry, for the elder teen left Hogwarts. He immediately signed on to the Puddlemere United Reserve Team, much to his excitement.

Oddly enough, some of Oliver's most prominent memories about the war wrapped around Harry Potter, as he finally destroyed Voldemort. Oliver's eyes weren't on the pile of ex-Dark Lord, though. He watched as Harry slouched, filled with relief that it was over, and yet despair that he had killed another person – however minutely that last one covered You-Know-Who. He saw Harry glance around him at the panicking Death Eaters their and spurned-on opposition.

Harry joined in on the rest of the fight then, until the last Death Eater surrendered his wand, which was snapped over someone's knee. Oliver approached Harry then, only to be filled with jealousy as a red headed witch threw herself into the Savior's arms and peppered his face with kisses. He tried not to let those feelings affect him, especially as the Weasley was all but humping the man Oliver lusted after. Wood turned away as he took that in, and instead searched for anyone else he knew. The jealousy was thrust aside, something to be taken in at another time when he wasn't covered with spilled blood, a mix of his own and others. A limping Katie appeared in his vision and Oliver hurried to support the woman before she fell; any distraction to take his mind off of his Harry being kissed by someone's lips that were not his own.

He fell into bed late that night, his body, mind, and magic all exhausted. He grieved for losses of those he knew, and for a lost chance to have Harry. Oliver assumed the attractive war hero would run off to marry the Weasley girl. Oliver snapped into a sitting position, a smirk overtaking his lips. Harry wouldn't marry her, not if he could help it.

.o0o.

A couple weeks later, and Oliver was no where on his plans to win Harry's affection. He growled as he flew before the goal posts – now the war was over, real life was resuming. Oliver shared stories of the battle with his team mates, as he had been the sole player to fight at the school. He quickly caught the quaffle and chucked it across the field to one of his team mates. The woman glared back at him as the unrounded ball nearly bounced off of her head. Practice continued horribly from there, the coach eventually screaming at Oliver to get off the field and to fix his head.

Oliver dismounted his broom with fierce, jerky movements, automatically signaling his team mates he wasn't in the mood for their usual boisterous selves. He stood for a long while in the showers, long after the mud had washed away down the drain. The man eventually heard the clamor of his practice-weary team; he rushed to clothe and Disapparated.

His home, located just outside of the nearest city, was small, quaint, and waiting for someone else to move in and live with Oliver. The man hadn't taken many lovers since his time out of Hogwarts, preferring to wait for the one man he really wanted – Harry Potter. Oliver growled at the thought and screamed out his frustration. He shimmied out of the clothing he had worn to practice and walked starker to his room, hands balled into frustrated fists. He slipped into clothing appropriate for a bar, dark washed jeans and a black shirt that accented arm muscles built from years of Quidditch. Even though the Raven was a wizard owned establishment, it was located in a Muggle neighborhood on the verge of the city and called for proper dress.

Oliver Apparated straight from his house and landed before the Raven, grateful for the Muggle-notice-me-not charms surrounding the place, much like those that covered the Leaky Cauldron. He strolled into the place and seated himself at the bar, nodding gratefully to Marc, the bartender, as he slid Oliver's favorite drink to him.

The keeper rested one elbow on the bar top as he glanced around the pub, picking out people he knew from those newcomers he didn't. Oliver spotted a redheaded woman sitting in a corner and glared. After the Weasley chit stole Harry (even if Harry didn't know she stole him from Oliver), Oliver harbored an intense dislike for the hair color and the person attached to it. The man continued looking around the bar and was very surprised when he saw someone he hadn't seen for a while.

The other man saw Oliver as well and was pleasantly shocked, a smile lighting up his face and his bright emerald eyes. Harry brushed dark hair from his face and stepped up to Oliver, standing just outside of his personal space.

"Harry!" Oliver exclaimed, setting his drink firmly on the bar and jumping up from his seat to hug the other. If his arms lingered longer than necessary around Harry, or his hands brushed areas lower than his back, Oliver didn't comment. Regretfully, Oliver's arms dropped from around Harry and he sat once more on his barstool, gesturing for Harry to take the next one over. "So, how have you been?" Oliver asked curiously once he had taken another sip of his drink; he would need another soon.

Harry shrugged and smiled as the bartender handed off his own drink without asking Harry what he wanted. "Come here often?" Oliver wanted to know.

He finally answered. "No, this is only the third or so time I've been here, but I guess Marc just knows after the first time."

Oliver nodded; Marc had an astounding memory for what his patrons wanted. "What have you done recently? I've been playing Quidditch like a madman, but it's excellent. The captain is just as wild as I am," he rattled off, features perky from tipsy excitement.

"I haven't been up to much; I tried Auror training for a while, but I got sick of it pretty quickly. I guess I'm not much into fighting now the war's over, since I've been doing it every year since my first year of Hogwarts. Ginny wasn't happy with that, but she was occupied with her new Quidditch team, the Holyhead Harpies, while I went into training to be a Quidditch medic and physical therapist."  
Oliver's stomach clenched with excitement upon hearing that, even as his thoughts plummeted that Harry was still with the Weasley chit. "Do you know what team you'll sign on with?" Oliver questioned. He was really hoping his manager would hire Harry, just so Oliver could be closer to the man he had liked for so long. Other previous relationships never had the same amount of oomph that Oliver could imagine him having with Harry.

Harry nodded, grinning. "Ginny wanted me to sign on with her team, but I really don't want to work with her; it's great that we're dating, but I like my independence. I was thinking of signing on with the Puddlemere United teams."

Oliver crowed with delight, drawing the attention of a few closer patrons. "My team, Harry, awesome! It'll be fun if the manager takes you on; everyone is nice and all, though we do tend to play rough in practice. I'm sure you'll have a good time if you sign on with us."

Harry laughed at the other man's excitement; his amusement drew the red head to look to them and stand. The woman approached the men with an angered expression, though she hid it as she laid her arm around Harry's neck and peered down at him. Harry switched his gaze to her and smiled half heartedly, his laughter still shaking his shoulders. Oliver barely restrained his glare at the woman, and quickly disguised what remained under a slightly happy countenance.

"What's going on, Harry?" Ginny asked her boyfriend.

Harry redirected his eyes to Oliver, carefully rolling his eyes at his girlfriend's need to know everything. "Just talking with Oliver, who is the keeper on the team I'm going to work for. Why?" he returned. Harry figured Ginny didn't remember Oliver all that much, considering she never played at the same time as the ex-Gryffindor keeper.

She pouted, and Oliver thought the expression screwed her face up more than it already was. "You never returned to our table. I thought we were having a date tonight."

Harry shrugged, slightly dislodging her arm from his shoulders. "I guess we'll have to reschedule, Gin."

"See you later," she told him, tone snobbish. Ginny attempted to kiss his mouth, but Harry tipped his head slightly. Her lips fell against his cheek briefly; finally, the woman stormed off, along with Oliver's sour mood.

"Sorry about that," Harry told the man, his expression downtrodden.

Oliver grinned at him, one hand picking up his drink in order to take a sip. "No problem, Harry. So, do you need a tour or anything?"

He smiled back. "If you have the time, sure. I'd like that better than to try and figure everything out."

.o0o.

A week later, Harry finally settled into his new apartment, thankfully empty of his clinging girlfriend, and was organizing his working materials inside his new office. Oliver leaned against the doorjamb, watching the man put everything where it could easily be accessed. If Oliver leaned against the entrance in such a way that his shirt was pulled tight across his muscles, he didn't comment. And if Harry noticed and liked the sight, he never remarked about it.

"So when are you going to start doing the physicals?" Oliver asked, happily roaming his eyes over the man, who bent to tuck something in a drawer.

"Sometime tomorrow; can you tell your team mates to sign up through Dan?" Dan was the team's manager, and had offered to post sheets for the players when Harry began to work.

Oliver nodded. "Sure, I can do that."

Harry stood straight and smiled at Oliver, his eyes lingering on Oliver's muscled shoulders a second longer than was proper.

.o0o.

The checkups started the next morning, right after practice and showers. Harry went through the three women first, Sarah as the Seeker, Lucy playing Chaser, and one Beater, Beka. Next were the men, twins Tom and Jerry with the other Chaser positions, Luke as the second Beater, and Oliver as Keeper.

Harry watched as they went through practice, assessing what needed to be checked or strengthened. He then physically went over each player, checking lungs and heart rate with a stethoscope and fingers, plus blood levels with a charm. He then assigned a series of work outs designed to build weak muscles and made sure each player knew how to complete them effectively. "As you complete these with ease, you'll move up to tougher and tougher exercises, while you grow stronger," was his response when questioned.

The months passed with players indeed growing, both on a broom and off. Eventually they went out as a team, the seven Quidditch players cheerfully inviting Harry to join them at a bar or pub. It was during one of these nights in which Oliver continually checked out Harry, who realized he was quickly losing interest in his girlfriend as he eyed Oliver right back.

.o0o.

Maybe it was Fate, who decided Oliver needed to fall off his broom during practice and stress the muscles of his lower back. Perhaps Fate really wanted Harry to massage those muscles in order to get the kinks out, which called for Oliver naked from the waist up. And there was a slight chance that said massage would result in Oliver hardening against the table, laid out on his stomach with his love interest's warm hands kneading his skin.

He released moans of pain and of pleasure as Harry's hands traveled down and out, fingers pressing into the injured areas and warming them.

"Alright," Harry told Oliver, stepping back from the table. He wiped the remnants of heated lotion he used onto a towel. "Make sure to come back later today for another go-over."

"Thanks," Oliver commented as he stretched his arms out and slowly rolled over. He folded his arms under his head and watched a small flush appear over Harry's cheekbones as the other man took in the very prominent erection pressed firmly against the front of Oliver's pants. "See something you like?" Oliver challenged, a smirk overtaking his lips.

Harry's eyes wandered up from his crotch, taking in the taught muscles under tanned skin, and finally meeting Oliver's eyes. "Maybe," Harry returned, his own lips stretching into a grin.

"Good," Oliver responded. He moved with the sudden quickness born of years of keeping, grabbing Harry around the waist and pulling the smaller man on top of him.

Harry remained pliant as his legs fell around Oliver's hips, while the man's arms went around his. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," Oliver told Harry, rising up and pressing his lips to Harry's.

Harry kissed him back with the same previously forbidden passion, carefully lowering his torso until their chests met pleasantly. Oliver lowered all the way to the table so he could use his hands to pull off Harry's shirt, their lips parting regretfully as the fabric passed between them. Rather than kiss his mouth again, Oliver pushed Harry's chin up, attacking the slightly stubbly skin with lips and tongue.

Harry rose up slightly in order to undo their pants, freeing aching erections. His hands moved freely over his own cock, but when touching Oliver's, Harry paused minutely. Oliver felt it and paused in his ministrations, asking, "Have you ever been with a man before?"

Harry shook his head, rising up slightly to look him in the eyes.

Oliver grinned reassuringly. "I'll be gentle," he replied, one hand reaching up to tangle in Harry's hair to draw their mouths together once more. He canted his hips up, rubbing his cock against Harry's, for the other had moved his hands to the table, supporting his weight. Harry moaned into Oliver's mouth at the feeling and ground down against him. Soon, their undone pants got in the way of pleasure and they stopped kissing in order to shunt the fabric to the floor, joining Harry's discarded shirt.

The two were left in flimsy undergarments, wet with precome from hard cocks. Oliver pushed his down right away, having no issue with stripping before his soon-to-be lover, and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of Harry's. He gave a questioning look to Harry, who slipped off the table and grabbed something from the desk propped against the wall next to the table. He returned, handing the pot – lubricant – to Oliver. Harry smirked and dropped his pants, once more sliding onto Oliver and rubbing his rear against the man's erection.

Oliver moaned and stated, "Thought you've never been with a man before."

Harry shifted until he could grab his own wand, swiftly tapping his backside and muttering a cleaning charm; his channel was left tingling and empty. "Still know what to do," he replied, dropping his wand and laying across Oliver once again.

"Good," Oliver returned with a grin; his hands opened the lubricant and his fingers scooped up a good amount of the paste, spreading it evenly over three digits. Harry nipped and sucked at his neck as Oliver reached over him, running his thumb down until it lightly touched the man's virgin hole. He heard Harry hiss out as his middle finger pressed inside the tight heat, slowly pushing past the entrance ring of resisting muscles.

"Oh, Merlin," Harry breathed out, bucking his body against Oliver's as his prostate was found. The man whined as Oliver withdrew his finger, only to replace it and another calloused digit, slick with lube. Harry's lips parted against Oliver's neck, sucking flesh into his mouth, where he worked on making his mark. His back arched up, giving him enough space to splay his hands over the man's pectorals; Harry pinched Oliver's hard nipples, earning a well deserved, "Bloody hell, Harry!" from the other, as well as another prod to his inner nerves.

Oliver tilted his head to press kisses against Harry's bared shoulder as he spread his fingers apart, soon adding a third. Harry clenched around him, and Oliver soothed him with flitting, possessive touches along his body, his left hand previously holding Harry to him. When Harry loosened around his fingers, and his mouth moved to another spot on Oliver's neck, Oliver pulled his hand away.

"No," Harry complained, pinching Oliver again; the man arched up under him, squeezing Harry's hands between their bodies.

"Just wait," he murmured against Harry's shoulder, nipping at the tight flesh he found there.

Harry groaned, but continued to lick at the other man, moving his hands underneath his body and exploring the arched back he found. His fingers danced over the muscles he had so soon massaged, smoothing the irritated areas over a few times before moving on to the next patch of skin to explore.

Oliver, on the other hand, smoothed the lubricant over his throbbing erection and wiped the excess around Harry. "Sit up," he said, finally pulling his mouth away from Harry's skin. His legs bent until he knelt on the table, comfortably straddling Oliver.

He ground down briefly before complying with Oliver's words, pulling his hands free as he knelt on either side of the man's hips.

"Lovely," Oliver murmured as he took in the sight above him: a panting, aroused Harry Potter, hair mussed and eyes clouded with pleasure, arse hovering above Oliver's cock. He felt Harry's hand wrap around his length and steady it as his own hands went around Harry's hips, bracing the man as he slowly lowered onto him. "Oh," Oliver moaned as he was engulfed by the tight heat of Harry.

Harry winced as he forced his body to accept Oliver; he wasn't tense, knowing that hurt more, but it was his first time with a man, regardless of how much stretching was done beforehand. He lowered down slow enough for his thighs to tremble, but eventually was fully seated on Oliver.

"Feels so good," the man told him, pushing up with his hands and encouraging Harry to rise on him.

Harry threw his head back and released a short scream as Oliver's cock brushed over that exact bundle of nerves, taking away the slight, burning pain of his entrance. "Oh, Merlin," Harry breathed out, settling once more over Oliver, and, as a slight test, squeezing his internal muscles.

"Harry!" Oliver shouted, bucking up and forcing himself into Harry faster than before.

He moaned, leaning forward slightly and bracing his hands on Oliver's abdomen in order to hold some of his weight.

Their movements sped until they were slick with sweat, moisture dripping from Harry's body to Oliver's and running off the man, vanishing as it came in contact with the table's charms. Too soon for either man, Oliver reached his peak, coming inside Harry's warm channel as the man squeezed around him. Wood took Harry's cock in his hand, pulling and twisting the flesh until Harry came over his chest.

Harry panted harshly and lay over Oliver, resting his face in the curve of the man's neck; he paid little attention to the mess he spread between them, more focused on the feeling of a hot, sweaty, male body under his. "Thank you," he mumbled against Oliver's skin, pressing soft kisses where his mouth found skin.

"No, thank you. Not a one off, I hope?" Oliver returned, his arms rising and settling over Harry's back.

"N–" he started, cut off by the sound of breaking glass against the tiled floors.

Both men jerked out of their post-coital bliss, sitting up and turning towards the entrance. Harry's face enflamed with embarrassment as he took in the pale, sickly face of his girlfriend, her eyes focused on their obvious state of undress, and the fact there was a cock up her boyfriend's arse.

"I thought to bring my boyfriend lunch at work, and this is what I find. Fantastic," the woman hissed, her features sharpening into a weasel-like glare. Once again, Oliver thought the expression made her quite ugly, but he wasn't going to complain now that he had Harry firmly wrapped around him, no pun intended.

"Ginny," Harry started calmly, though he made no move to climb off of Oliver and attempt to fix the violently broken relationship with the woman.

"No. Is this all I am worth, Harry? Three years we have been in a relationship, and this is how I am rewarded, you jumping into bed with another man the moment I turn my back?" She dropped the rest of what she was holding with a few nasty splatters.

"Nope," he replied smugly.

"Excuse me?" she questioned icily.

He gestured around the trio. "Obviously, Oliver and I are not in bed."

Oliver smiled against Harry's collar bone, opening his mouth and giving the salty flesh a quick lick. He felt Harry clench around him, earning the man, whose body was still pressed against his, another brush of lips.

"Damn it, Oliver," Harry muttered as he stared at Ginny, rebellion flaming in his eyes.

Ginny's glare became more venomous, though it had little effect on the distracted Oliver. "And you!" she exclaimed, attempting to draw the man's attention. "What are you doing sleeping with a taken man?" Her arms crossed over her small chest, as one foot stuck out to the side and began tapping.

"'M not sleepin'," Oliver told her, tilting his face to the ceiling and licking a trail up Harry's neck; he felt the man shiver around him and delighted in the way he could make Harry react. It didn't help that he felt the beginnings of Harry's arousal against his belly, but only made it better. His hands ran up Harry's back, in plain sight of the woman angrily standing at the entrance to Harry's office space.

Harry laughed at his response, tipping his back in order to give Oliver more room to work against his skin. Voice heavy with lust once again, Harry told Ginny, "We're over, Gin, and this time for good."

She cried out but was ignored as Harry fell into Oliver's clutches. Ginny spun, angry tears filling her eyes, and stormed from the office, Disapparating to her brother Fred in his shop. She had revenge on the mind, only to scream as Fred cheered for Harry finally admitting to his sexuality.

Unaware of these happenings, Oliver had flipped Harry onto his back and proceeded to pound into him. At some point in their intercourse, he asked, "So, one time thing?"

Harry grinned up at him and replied, "Definitely not," before pulling Oliver's face to his and claiming his mouth in a dominating kiss, even as his own body was dominated.

.o0o.

I figured that, as this is now posted for the prompt, I can now post this fic here. For all who read this over at the Love a Lion fest, this is a repeat. For others, this is what I spent a great deal of my summer writing. I'm sure those who haven't read this are happy!

My apologies to those waiting for the final chapter of Choices; have you ever heard that the second week of anything is worse than the first? For that statement holds true... I'll try to finish editing and have it posted sometime soon.

And finally, for someone who reads Life with Derek fanfiction, I have a challenge for you to find: Couple: CaseyxDerek; they knew each other and were in a relationship before/during the dating of their parents; when they find their parents are married, they drop the relationship though the entire school new about it; at a party, they get back together/dump each other (I don't fully remember); their parents eventually figured out that Derek and Casey had been seeing each other and the couple gets back together; Marti knew the entire time, pretty much.

My condolences to those who lost friends or relatives in the 9/11 attack nine years ago.

Alright, that's all! Happy readings and have a great weekend!

~Deso

**Edited: Feb 14, 2010**


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